The Dwarf sighed with frustration. He preferred to use a remarkably soft leather that came from a small deer that ranged in the woodlands above the lake to buff a particular alloy of gold and platinum, but it seemed that none of the woodsmen had brought any such hides to the market this day. He turned, thinking to head back to his small shop in the artisan's quarter when he felt a soft bump into his side and heard a small gasp from behind him. Looking down, he saw a little girl-child of no more than four or five years old, gazing up at him with huge, frightened eyes the colour of sapphires. Taking a knee, the Dwarf looked the child directly in the eyes and smiled kindly:
"Yer pardon, little lassie, I didn't see ya there. Are ye alright?"
The sapphire eyes widened a little, and a rather grubby thumb went into the child's mouth. She nodded her head "yes" shyly and stared at the bearded jeweller. Taking a breath, he spoke again:
"Now, they call me Dwimmer in these parts, and I am at your service...can ye tell me your name? And whereabouts your Ma and Pa might be? They'll be missin' ya."
The thumb came out briefly, as well as a barely audible whisper:
"Fairlain." and then, looking around her, "Mama..." The sapphires became shining pools of droplets which ran down her cheeks.
"Here now, here now..." Dwimmer wiped the tears away. "Come, let's find your Mama..she can't be far." and the Dwarf offered the child his hand. Certain enough, they had not gone three steps before they caught a glimpse of a woman dressed in woodland garb who was frantically searching the crowded market.
"Mama!" cried Fairlain, tearing her hand out of Dwimmer's grasp and running to embrace the woman who wrapped her arms around the child in relief, pausing momentarily to adjust the dingy cap that was knotted under the child's chin. The woods woman glanced up at the Dwarf and mouthed her thanks, and from that moment there was a friendship formed between the three. It turned out that Fairlain and her mother lived in the wilderness south of the Gateway of the Long Lake and towards the bank of the Running River. They snared beasts in the wilderness and were among those who brought pelts and whatever delicacies were to be found in the woodlands into the city to sell at market. There was no sign of Fairlain's father, and Dwimmer did not ask: Dwarves know that there is safety in secrecy and if people choose not to speak of a thing there is usually a reason . Happily though, Dwimmer found a ready source for his "Shami" cloths as he named them and a reason to look forward to market day that he might greet his sapphire eyed lassie once again.
Years passed. Fairlain grew from the height of Dwimmer's belt to the height of his shoulder in what seemed no time at all, and by her tenth year she stood half a hand taller than the good Dwarf. Each time he saw her he would pick up a flat stone and, digging a riffler out of his pocket, he would inscribe a rune on it and press it into her hand. Sometimes he would take time to show her how the runes combined to form words, or some of the silent gestures that Dwarves use to communicate in the deafening din of the forges. She also began hunting with a bow to help her mother gather pelts and game, proving to have a deadly eye and the ability to move as silently as a ghost when she wished. As Fairlain flourished, though, it seemed that her mother faded and there came a year when it was the girl alone who came into the city bearing the pelts and hides of that season.
Dwimmer stoked the fire in his little workshop, and drew a small mug of ale which he took to the girl sitting by the hearth. By this time Fairlain was a woman grown and easily three heads taller than the Dwarf, but still he could see that the sapphires had once again dissolved into shining pools.
"When?", he asked
"Last winter. She caught fever."
Dwimmer went over to the girl and gently took her hands in his. "I am so sorry, lassie. It is never an easy thing, and doubly hard on one as young as ye."
Fairlain drew a heavy breath and glanced down at a parcel that lay at her feet. She opened her mouth to speak but her voice failed her; shutting her eyes tightly a moment, she signed "I need your help".
"Of course, lassie, anything I can do will be done."
Freeing her hands, she reached down for the parcel and drew out a finely carved wooden box with an elaborate lock on the front. After holding it a moment, she found her voice:
"This was my father's. My mother said that this box held the way to find him. I do not know him, Dwimmer. He held me once when I was born and spoke my name over me...but I never in my life ever saw him!"
She stared at the box in silence, then said: "there is no key."
The Dwarf took the box gently in his hands and examined it closely by the firelight. It was true enough that there was no keyhole to the lock. Dwimmer ran his fingers gently over the carved surface. The box held the image of two trees surrounded by all manner of beasts and noble, tall figures. The roots of the trees wound down to surround the fine silver lock. At the top of each tree was carved a star reflecting the rays which burst from the tree's leaves. Placing a thumb over each of the stars, he pressed down on both at once- there was a soft click and the lid released with the tiniest of sighs. Dwimmer turned to Fairlain and gently placed the box back in her hands. For a moment...a very long moment... the girl looked at the box and then, biting her lower lip, placed her hand on the lid and snapped it shut once again. She slowly raised her hand to the cowl she wore and dragged it off her head. As she looked at the Dwarf the sapphire pools of her eyes became droplets and then rivers.
"I wish you were my Papa."
Dwimmer hurried over to her, and, giving her a hug, let her weep her sorrow out on his shoulder.
When the tears had spent themselves, the Dwarf gently dried the girl's face, then walked over to his work bench. When he returned he held a key of unusual shape that he pressed into Fairlain's hand.
"Now this will not open any boxes, and what doors it may have opened were destroyed by dragon's fire long ago, BUT this carries the mark of my clan. It means you are my family."
Fairlain threw her arms around Dwimmer and hugged him tight.
